Jack laughs, which makes me want to laugh. I realize I genuinely enjoy his presence. I’ve known him for all of twenty minutes, but I feel at ease around him. Like I know him or have met him before. I know that I haven’t, though. I’d remember his face. I haven’t met such kindness since Richard.
“I’ve known King for a while, and I’ve never seen him like that before,” Jack further says, swimming closer to me.
“Oh really,” I dig, kicking out to the deep. He follows closely behind me, while still keeping a safe distance. I appreciate that.
When I’m far enough out, I turn around, and he’s a few steps in front of me. My eyes go over his shoulder and to the truck, where the boys are now all watching us. “How well do you know him?”
Jack runs his hand through his hair. “Well, since I was nine. His family is close with my family. You know, that sort of thing.”
“Ah, right.” I don’t want to sound nosey, so I change the subject. “And what is your act or role in Midnight Mayhem?”
He pauses. “You mean aside from the final act?”
I tilt my head. “I don’t think I’ve fully experienced the final act.”
He chuckles. “No, you haven’t, and the way things are looking,” he turns his head over his shoulder, “you may never.”
“Can you tell me a bit about it all?”
He swipes his hair again. “Well, it’s for us as much as it’s for the audience.”
“It’s live sex.”
He laughs, his head tilting back. “Yes and no.”
I shake my head. “Is all the crazy crap that you guys do not enough?”
“It’s more of a reenactment. You’ll see tomorrow. Whether you’re involved wholly or partly like before, I’m sure you’ll see.”
“And who is all in the final act?”
He smirks. “Everyone.”
A whistle breaks through the air, interrupting our chat. King waves us to the shore.
I grumble, “We’ve been summoned.” We both start swimming back.
“Is he always moody?” I ask, just as my feet touch the sand again.
“Nah,” Jack says. “He usually has a coping mechanism.”
Before I can ask what that means, Jack is heading over to the other guys he came with, throwing a towel around his back. His friend slaps the back of his head, and Jack laughs, turning around to face me and sending me a wink.
These people are strange. Not the kind of strange that’s enticing either. They’re the kind of strange that you don’t want to be a part of, or even admire from a distance.
Maya is heading my way wearing a cap flipped backwards. “You got a death wish, Dovey?” I know what she’s implying. What with King right there.
“No. Just making friends.”
“Hey!” Maya calls out as I pass her. I turn around. “You should come drink with us tonight. We’re having a fire pit lit and all the rest. Since, you know, you haven’t yet, and you went drinking with Beat first…”
I smile. “Sure.”
“Dove!” King bellows from across the grass.
“Oh, girl.” Maya chuckles. “You’re in trouble.”
I turn around to face him and see the rest of the boys climbing into the truck. “Get in the truck!”
Rose tosses my towel at me, and I catch it, glaring at her. “I mean it, Dove. Be careful.”
“She’s not lying,” Val mutters, flipping onto her back.
I slowly make my way to the truck, and King climbs into the driver’s seat as I get into the passenger’s side. He slams his door before I’m putting my belt on and floors the truck forward.
“Really, Dove. You just had to poke the bear.”
“What?” I turn to face Killian, who shakes his head.
Figuring we’re all in one car, I turn to face Kingston, leaning my back against the door. “What did I do wrong?”
“What gave you the impression that you did anything wrong?” he answers, but his voice is detached. Distant.
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you yelled at me from across the damn field.”
He laughs sarcastically. “Because I yelled at you?” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to pin me with a stare. “If that’s what has you shaken up, then you’re weaker than I thought.”
I grit my teeth and remain quiet the whole way home. I realize the longer I’m with them, the more comfortable I get to speak my mind. It’s like the longer I’m here, the more I forget everything that they have put me through to this point.
King opens the glove compartment and grabs out an envelope. He points to it. “That’s yours. Everything that’s inside is yours. Use it as you need.”
I open the envelope and a single black card drops onto my lap. “Why?”
“Because you’re one of us,” Keaton adds.
I flick the black card between my fingers, thinking of what to do.
“Press check account for your pay, or savings for the trust account. They’re linked.”
I want to fight it. I want to know why he’s flipped all of a sudden, and he’s not as mad at me as everyone thought back at the lake, but I leave it. Because I’ll choose my fights with King, and I don’t think this is one to exert energy on right now. At least for now.
We pull back into the compound, and I take a few seconds to climb out of the truck. Everyone leaves, and it’s just Killian and I inside. I turn around to face him. “For some reason, I trust you.”
Killian freezes. “Well, don’t.”
“Why do you say that?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know.
“Because as much as I like you, Little Bird, The Brothers are my family. This family is deeper than your mind could even imagine. There are secrets and bonds and all kinds of crazy ass shit that you can never know. That’s why you shouldn’t trust me. Because if I was ordered to put a bullet between your eyes, I wouldn’t flinch when doing it. I may be nice to you, Little Bird, but don’t mistake it for loyalty. Someone like me, like them, we can never be happy with a girl because of it.” He climbs out of the truck, slamming the door in his retreat.
I remain seated. Frustrated and angry, and most of all, lost. I feel lost. Like I don’t know who I am anymore or even where I fit in. I’m not delusional enough to think that with The Brothers of Kiznitch is where I would fit in, but I thought I trusted Kill.
Pushing open the door, I drop to the ground just as Delila comes heading straight for me.
“Little Bird. Where have you been? Come, I have something I want to show you.”
I close the door and do as she says. Delila is probably a lot of things—judging by what Beat has said also—but as far as I stand, she’s not threatened my life yet, so that’s saying something.
I follow her to the tent and inside. She waves her hand toward the stage. “You will have your own act.”
My palms sweat, and I rub them down my thighs. “Dancing?”
She nods, her black bob bouncing with the movement. “Yes. I’ll leave it up to you. Different dances would be preferred, but it’s up to you. You get five minutes. You may use any of the props. There’s a pole there, too, if you need it.”